A Trip to the Land of Hurt and Hunger
by blame it on the government
Summary: Shhhhh," he whispered as he stroked my hair. I couldn't think straight at the moment, but I did know one thing: I was in love with Dallas Winston. And I think he was in love with me.
1. Chapter 1

**The name of this story is Sci-Fi Outsider's Fic Take 2 for the sole purpose that this is the second time I have written this story. I have decided to redo this story because I am not happy with the original, and rewriting this is the only way I'm going to have closer. The original was written when I was eleven-years-old. I am fifteen-years-old now, and it is up to you to tell me which version you like better (if you would like to read the original, you can find it on my profile page. The title is scifi outsider's fic). I hope you enjoy. **

It was a brilliant, spring day, the sky a radiant blue speckled with white, fluffy clouds and the occasional bird. The grass was a cocktail of colors, mostly green with bluebonnets and indian paintbrushes sprinkled here and there. In the corner of a near by field, black eyed susans grew, their yellow petals warm and majestic.

In fact, it would have been a perfect day if it hadn't been for the fact that I was walking home from school with my doofus of an older brother.

The reason I called him my doofus of a brother is because if it weren't for his little "accident", we wouldn't be walking. My mom said it wasn't his fault. My dad said it could have happened to anyone. But I say that he should have been a little more careful. I mean when he saw how rainy it was, he just have pulled over and let it pass. Did he do that? No, he continued driving like it was nothing. The next thing he knew, he hydroplaned. Subsequently, he ran into a light post, smashing the front of his car into an unrecognizable mess.

I suppose it's needless to say that I was pretty mad at him.

"So...Abbey," my brother, Bobby, said as nonchalantly as he could, sensing my anger towards him. "It's pretty hot out. Do you want to stop at 7-11 and get a drink? My treat."

I knew he was just trying to make it up to me, but he wasn't going to get off the hook so easily.

"And walk a mile out of our way?" I retorted curtly. "I don't think so. I just want to get home."

Bobby nodded silently besides me. He wrecked his car a week ago, and we hadn't really talked to each other since then. I actually felt a little guilty about giving him the silent treatment for I knew that I wasn't going to be able to see him every day come next August. He was a senior, about to graduate from high school in two weeks. Soon, he would go to college and forget all about his little sister.

"Huh," I sighed, ready to give him a long apology, but he cut me off.

"You know what, Abbey?" Bobby exclaimed in a fit of frustration. "I'm sorry. I don't even know what I did, and I'm sorry!"

"You don't know what you did?" I exclaimed back, forgetting all about my guilt. "You wrecked your car and now we have to walk everywhere!"

"You know, when I was a freshman, I walked everywhere because I didn't have an older brother to drive me every place I wanted to be, you spoiled brat!"

"You don't drive me everyplace I want to be because if you did, you would actually be nice! And I am not a spoiled brat. Mom and dad spoil you so much more than they spoil me!"

"That is so not true. You get everything you want!"

"I do not!" I seethed back. "If I got everything I wanted, I would have my own computer and cell phone, two things that you have!"

"That's because I'm about to go to college. I need those things!" Bobby retorted angrily. "And--Hey, where are we?" He sound genuinely confused and a little scared.

"Where are we?" I repeated his question back to him, trying my best to belittle him. "What? Were you born yesterday. Just look around." But even as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that I had no idea where we were.

"What street did we just turn on?" Bobby asked as he turned around. I turned around as well to find no street signs. In fact, I couldn't even find a street. The ground that I walked was a dirt road, the side walk, buildings, cars and other people no where to be seen.

"This isn't some sort of weird joke?" I said a little uneasily as I looked around, trying to find something to say we were home in Fort Worth, Texas.

"And how would I go about pulling this little 'joke' off?" Bobby asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"All right, it's not a joke," I replied hastily. "But I can't even fathom where we are. We can't be more than a mile away from school."

"Look," Bobby said, his voice steady. "We'll just find some one to ask. They'll be able to help us home. Or at least tell us what's going on."

"All right," I replied, already beginning to calm down as an idea dawned on me. "What about your cell phone? You could call mom or dad to pick us up."

"Good idea." I watched as Bobby reached into his pocket. A few moments later, though, his eyes went wide with realization.

"What is it?" I asked, fearing the worst.

"I can't find my cell phone. I must have dropped it somewhere."

"Great," I muttered. "Is that all you dropped."

"I can't find my ipod either. And what happened to your watch?"

"Nothing. It's right here." I looked to my left wrist where I usually wore my blue, digital watch. In it's place, though, was a large, cream colored vintage watch with leather strap.

"That's weird," I muttered to myself.

"Like this all isn't weird?" Bobby laughed nervously. "Come on. Let's try to find someone to help us before it gets dark."

I nodded as I looked to the sky, the sun just beginning to sink below the horizon.

We probably walked three miles or so, my backpack starting to feel heavier than usual, when we reached a large farmhouse accompanied by a small farm. It was the first building we had seen in a few hours.

"You think there are people in there?" I asked as I pointed to the farmhouse. It was yellow with large windows betraying huge pools of light.

"I would bet on it."

With renewed vigor, we ran the last 100 yards to the house. We arrived out of breath, but happy that we found some potential help. With a tired hand I knocked on the door, hoping someone would answer.

A few moments later, to our luck and relief, the door opened, betraying a young man perhaps in his early twenties. He was clad in a large blue t-shirt, and a pair of jeans with an exaggerated flare at the bottom. He wore no shoes, and had long bushy hair and a beard to match.

"Hawthorn and Willow?" He asked in hushed, but expectant voice. It kind of freaked me out, but Bobby remained unperturbed.

"No. Bobby and Abbey. We're lost. We were wondering if we could use your phone."

"Sorry, Man," the man replied. "We don't have electricity here. But you two are welcome to spend the night."

"No, really. That's all right. We just want to use a phone. Does anyone here have a cell phone or something? I seemed to have lost mine."

"Dude, no electricity. No phones."

"Where's the nearest phone, then?"

"About fifteen miles. They have one at Sherman's Convenience Store in town."

"Could someone take us there?"

"Man, we're, like, right in the middle of dinner. No one's going anywhere tonight. Why don't you come in and eat with us?"

Bobby gave me a resigned look as he shrugged. "I suppose we really don't have a choice."

The man disappeared behind the door as Bobby and I followed him in. The house smelled of fresh baked pie, body odor, and an unfamiliar earthy smell. We followed the man passed a large staircase, a living room furnished with old, dusty couches, and a bookcase which held decorations instead of books. Soon, we entered a crowded dining room, at least a dozen young men and woman around a long, wooden table. All were engaged in some conversation, but everyone hushed themselves as we entered the room.

"Brothers and sisters," the man said in the same hushed excitement he used with us outside. "Let me introduce you to Bobby and Abbey, two lost and weary travelers. They will be staying with us for the night." The man turned from the table back to us. "Let me introduce myself. I am Sunshine, and it is very nice to meet you two."

"Nice to meet you too," Bobby and I muttered in unison.

"You can put your bags here for right now," Sunshine said kindly as he pointed to a corner. I shrugged mine off my back, but I jumped back in surprise when I saw it. It was made from brown canvas with a drawstring instead of a zipper. Bobby had a similar one except it was dark green instead. It was then that I noticed the clothes that Bobby was wearing. When we had left school, he was clad in a pair of denim shorts, a blue polo shirt, and a pair of Nike running shoes. Now he had a pair of jeans very similar to the pair Sunshine was wearing, a white, flowing shirt with beads along the neckline, and a pair of brown sneakers made of what looked like leather. Trembling slightly, I looked down. I was wearing a pair of flare jeans, much like Sunshine's and Bobby's, a pair of what looked like leather moccasins, and a white peasant blouse.

"Is something the matter," Sunshine asked me, looking at with an odd glint in his eyes.

"No," I replied hastily. "I'm just tired." I put my bag down next to Bobby's, trying to catch my brother's eye. But when I caught it, he gave me a look that said "we'll talk later". I nodded slightly.

"Sit, friends," Sunshine instructed. Bobby and I found two empty seats across the table from each other. I took one as Bobby took the other.

"Abbey." a girl sitting besides me called out. "Would you like some endive salad? I grow it myself in the garden."

"Yes, please," I replied as she loaded my plate with salad. She grabbed another dish, this one holding boiled carrots and asparagus and dumped a spoonful on my plate right next to the salad. She kept grabbing dishes, all of them of fresh or simply cooked vegetables, putting spoonful after spoonful on my plate. After several moments, my plate towered, and I was left with the curious question as to how I was going to eat it all. Surprisingly, though, I was very hungry and I downed the food in seconds.

When I was finished with my supper and enjoying some spiced apples (that was the scent I thought was pie), the girl sitting next to me (she introduced herself as Star), started the conversation up again.

"You seem so young to be traveling," Star said with sympathy. "You can't be any older than fourteen. I was sixteen when I left home."

"I'll be fifteen next month," I offered her.

"Fourteen is rather young." She frowned. "Especially to be running off with an older boy."

I flushed a scarlet red as I realized what she meant.

"Bobby's my brother," I said, embarrassed she would even make the assumption. "And he'll be in eighteen in August."

"I see." She wore a devious smile, as if she thought I was using some sort of idiom. "Cyprus"--she picked up the hand belonging to the man sitting next to her-- "He was my next-door neighbor. He was like an older brother to me. Then, he got his draft notice, so we ran off together. At first, he was my older brother. Then, he became my lover."

"Bobby really is my older brother," I explained. "We have the same parents."

"Blood siblings. I see. You must specify for we are all brothers and sisters."

"I see," I replied. But I was really freaked out. What if Bobby and I got transported to some weird alternative universe where the whole world wore funny clothes with funny names and ate funny food? And what was this thing about a draft notice? Was there a war going on? The world seemed pretty peaceful. Would we get shot down at any moment? Was that the reason Sunshine didn't want to take us to town?

Just as I started to panic, Sunshine stood up to make an announcement.

"What a marvelous dinner," he said. "Now that we are all fed, let us go to the living room."

Everybody got up to go except Star and Cyprus. They began to collect dirty dishes, starting to the kitchen.

"Let me help you," I said to Star as I grabbed a dish.

"No," She simply replied. "You're a guest. Please, follow the others into the living room. We'll join you soon."

I shrugged, not about to argue with some weird girl named Star. I followed the crowd, quickly finding Bobby already in the living room, sitting on a couch. I sat down next to him, afraid to be away from him. After a few minutes, everyone from the dining room was in the living room, including Star and Cyprus, who must have put the dishes in the sink for later.

"I bought a newspaper today," Sunshine said as he stood up, addressing the entire room as he held a newspaper out. I figured right then that he must be the ring leader (or at least the owner of the house). "The articles that it contained were more disturing than usual. Let me pass it around for you to all see. I will start with Abbey and Bobby for they are our guests."

Sunshine handed Bobby the newspaper. His eyes went wide as he scanned. Hurriedly, he handed it to me, and my eyes went wide as well. It was the Fort Worth newspaper, the Star Telegram. But the date on it was what was unusual for it was dated May 12, 1967.

"You said you bought this newspaper today?" Bobby asked Sunshine.

"Yes, I did. Is there something wrong?" Sunshine asked as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"No. I just saw a similar article on the front page on another newspaper yesterday."

Sunshine nodded as we continued to scan the newspaper. The front page article was about the Vietnam War, which is exactly what I'd expect from the late 60's. We passed the newspaper to the person next to us. Soon, everyone had had a chance to read the article. Sunshine went on about it, but I really don't remember what he said for I leaned my head against Bobby's shoulder, dozing slightly.

'

"Our travelers are tired!" a voice boomed close to my ear. I woke to find Sunshine's mouth close to my ear, and the living room empty save for Sunshine and me. For a moment, I couldn't find Bobby. But a moment later, he returned to the room, his backpack slung over his shoulder and mine his hand. He handed it to me as I stood up and stretched.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Bobby said. "My sister and I greatly appreciate it."

"I believe," Sunshine said slowly, "that the world would be better if the whole world could trust complete strangers and be kind to one another."

Sunshine might have been strange, but at least he wasn't a pyscopath.

We bade Sunshine goodnight as we headed up the giant staircase.

"We're on the second floor," Bobby muttered as we climbed. "Third door on the right."

I was the first to open the door and go inside. It was a cozy room with two gas lamps and a four candles on the nightstand as well as two books of matches.

"Well," Bobby muttered as he shut the door. "This could easily be the strangest day of my life."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I muttered back. "What the heck happened, anyway?"

"I know about as much you do." Bobby lit the candles, which casted just enough light to see. "But it seems as if we went through a time machine or something. We're exactly 41 years in the past. Those people, they're just a harmless bunch of hippies."

"Where do you think these clothes came from?" I asked. "And these new backpacks? And what about my watch." I paused for a moment. "I bet you didn't drop your cell phone and ipod. I bet they went wherever our clothes and backpacks went."

"You're probably right. Hey, what do you want to bet that there's things in our bags besides books?"

I grabbed my backpack and opened it up. Inside, there was aother pair of jeans (they were boot cut instead of flare), a pair of Converse High Tops, a white blouse, a long, tan skirt, a pair of loafers, socks, stockings, a white, flowing nightgown, and some underwear and bras that looked like something my grandmother would wear.

I showed Bobby my contents as he showed me his. He had another pair of jeans (boot cut as well), a pair of Converse High Tops, a white shirt, a pair of khakis, a brown belt, a pair of loafers, socks, some striped pajamas, and some underwear (briefs). Pretty much, we had the same things except I had the female version and he the male.

As Bobby handed me my backpack back, I saw something that I hadn't noticed before. On the very bottom of the bag was a leather bound book. It had no title, nothing at all to indicate what it was. Next to me, Bobby pulled out the same book from his bag. He opened it up, read it for a few moments, smiled, then turned to me.

"Read this," he said, handing me the book. I shook my head as I took out my book. I opened it up and read the first sentence: "When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home".

It sounded familiar. What book was that from? Then it dawned on me: The Outsiders. We didn't go through a time machine. We were transported into the book. Why or how was beyond me. But I didn't care. I lived in the ecstasy of the moment, of finally figuring it out.

"Abbey," Bobby said thoughtfully after several moments. "I don't think we're in the right city."

"I've always wanted to go to Tulsa," I snickered.

"Whatever," Bobby muttered back. "Close your eyes. I'm going to put my funny pajamas on. You can put yours on next."

After getting ourselves situated, we finally sank into bed, both of us asleep within seconds.

'

Morning came way too soon. One moment, I was asleep, my arm wrapped a pillow. The next momet, Cyprus was bursting in the room, calling out "I heard you two wanted to go in town."

Bobby was up in a second, pulling off his funny pajama shirt and replacing it with his funny shirt from yesterday. He did the same with his pants, not caring as much for modesty as he did yesterday.

"Hurry up and get dressed, Abbey," Bobby called as he hurried out of the room. Cyprus, however, stayed in the room, watching me, waiting for me to take my clothes off.

"Um," I called out nervously, "I can't get dressed if you're watching."

Cyprus didn't have a chance to react. Bobby came up behind him, grabbing him by the arms out of the room.

"You do not disrespect my little sister," Bobby seethed into Cyprus's ear. "You do not look at her. You do not touch her. You understand?"

"Hey, Buddy," Cyprus turned around. "Take it easy. I wasn't going to touch her."

"Bobby," I called. "Let him go. Don't hurt him. He didn't hurt me."

Only when I said that did Bobby let him go.

"Sorry," Bobby muttered. "I'm just a little overprotective, I guess."

"Don't worry about," Cyprus muttered back. "I feel the same way about Star."

With the boys playing nice, I was able to close the door and get dressed. Not wanting to dirty my clean clothes, I pulled on the clothes from yesterday, stuffed my night gown into the bag, slung it over my shoulder, and joined Bobby and Cyprus in the hallway. To my relief, they were talking quietly without a hint of violence.

"All ready?" Bobby asked.

"Yep," I replied. I followed the boys outside and into an old-looking truck. I noticed there were no seatbelts as I slid inside.

We had a very quiet ride (well, quiet as in no one was talking. It was very loud as far as the engine and the wind whistling outside the open windows). After forty-five minutes down a country dirt, road, we finally hit pavement. Soon after that, we pulled in front of a small, white building with a sign that read "Sherman's Convenience Store".

"This is it," Cyprus said as he stopped the car. "Is this goodbye? Should I come back for you?"

"I think we're going to be fine," Bobby said after just a second of hesitation. I sure hope we would.

We hopped out of the truck after a quick goodbye. Bobby and I stood besides each other as we watched Cyprus drive away. I was a little sad to see him go (and a little frightened). But we couldn't stay in Fort Worth. We had to get to Tulsa.

Because we didn't know what else to do, we walked into the store. It was filed with sodas, cand bars, magazines, newspapers (both the Star-Telegram _and_ the Dallas Morning News), and some snacks.

"I wonder..." Bobby muttered. He reached into his pocket and extracted his wallet. Opening it, he muttered. "I had a twenty in here!"

"You had?" I replied, not liking where this was heading. "What's in there now?"

I was frightened he was going to say nothing, but instead he said, "It looks like five tens, twenty fives, and fifteen ones."

"Well, that works for me," I laughed.

"We should try to conserve as much money as we can. But we should get some food, just in case. You know?"

"I agree, " I replied (I admit it; I was a little hungry).

We picked out a pound of apples, a loaf of bread, a pack of bologna, and for our breakfast, two freshly baked blueberry muffins on a platter at the checkout counter (the cashier, and obvious owner of the store for his name tag read George Sherman, winked at us as and said "My wife baked those this morning" as he bagged the muffins up). Our total came up to 2.12 including tax. With a small smile, Bobby gave the man three ones. In return, he got 88 cents back. With a 'thank you', we took our breakfast outside as we watched the sunrise. It was different from watching the sunrise during our own time. In the future, the sunrise was always obstructed by a building. But there was no large buildings to be seen save for the distant skyline of downtown Fort Worth. After fifteen minutes, a truck pulled up with an Oklahoma liscense plate. Excited, we followed him into the store.

"Yeah," we heard him muttering to the cashier, "Just going to Topeka. Was down here visiting my sister. Just had a baby. But now my Aunt is sick. Gonna stop in Tulsa for a little while to see my wife and kids. Then it's more driving."

The cashier muttered his sympathies as he rang up the man. As he did that, Bobby turned to me, giving me his so-are-you-thinking-what-I'm-thinking look. I gave him a nod that said "go for it".

"Excuse me, sir?" Bobby asked the man on his way out of the store. "My little sister and I, we need to get to Tulsa. I noticed you telling the man that you were headed there. I was wondering if you might be kind enough to give us a ride?"

"The man scrutinized Bobby, deciding whether he was telling the truth, or was going to shoot him to death ten miles up the road and steal his car. He must have chose the former for he said "Yes, but come on. Time's a-wasting."

The ride to Tulsa was long and boring. I had personally never been there before, so I didn't know what to expect. After eight long hours in the car with a short break for lunch (Bobby had sacraficed another two dollars for a couple hamburgers, some french fries, and two cokes), we arrived in Tulsa.

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when the kind man (we never asked him his name. How rude of us!) dropped us off. He asked us if there was anywhere specific we needed to be, so Bobby told him the truth. He said that we weren't quite sure where we needed to be, but we'd be all right.

The man chose a nice little park to leave us. It had a fountain, and big, leafy trees. It also held the ominous presence of something evil about to happen. I recognized it immediately: the park where Johnny was to kill Bob. I shivered as I thought of this, realizing that it probably wasn't a coincidence that brought us here.

"So what now?" I asked Bobby as we sat down on soft grass, waiting for whatever was suppose to happen.

"I'm not quite sure, but I think those two guys might be who we need to talk to."

"And why do you say that?" I asked.

"Because, they match the description for Sodapop and Steve exactly." He had his leather bound (it was right then why I realized that the books was leather bound and empty of text--so we could read the book without suspicion) book held open to the pages describing Steve and Sodapop. He handed it to me and I read, "Soda is handsomer than anyone else I know. Not like Darry-Soda's movie-star kind of handsome, the kind that people on the street watch go by. He's not as tall as Darry, and he's a little slimmer, but he has a finely, drawn, sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time. He's got dark-gold hair that he combs back--long and silky and straight--and in the summer the sun bleaches it to a shining wheat-gold. His eyes are dark brown--lively, dancing, recklessly laughing eyes that can be sympathetic one moment and blazing with anger the next." Across the page was Steve's description, and I began to read that as well: "Steve Randle was seventeen, tall and lean, with thick, greasy hair he kept combed in complicated swirls. He was cocky, smart, and Soda's best buddy since grade school."

"Yep," I said as I handed the book back to Bobby. "That's probably them."

"Stay here," Bobby warned. "I'm going to talk to them."

I remained firmly planted in the grass as Bobby approached the two boys, talking just loud enough for me to hear.

"I'm new in town," I could hear Bobby say, "and I was wondering if there was a good place nearby to get a bite to eat."

"Actually," one of the boys replied (I'm pretty sure it was Soda. The voice sounded friendly, and Soda's supposed to be friendly, right?). "We're headed to the dingo right now. I sure think it's the best place to get a burger. Come along with us. We'll show you around."

"Thanks," Bobby replied. "Abbey, come here!"

I came lopping up a few moments later, not believing I was seeing two fictional characters from a stupid book I liked when I was a little kid. But, whatever. It was my life now.

**Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, rest assured! There will be more! (and sorry if there were a lot of spelling errors. I wrote this entire thing without spell check!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, if you're reading this, then you have survived the long (and, I admit it, exorbitant) first chapter. You have gotten over the hard part. Now, it's just pure fun! Sit back and relax! The story is just beginning! **

I never knew Sodapop Curtis talked so much. His description in the book never included his diarrhea of the mouth, or the need to give every single detail about everything.

"--And he said 'But I don't like spaghetti'. And then I said..." Soda said with animation, his hands moving in time with his words. He was in the midst of a story about one of his brothers and an erroneous dinner where a pasta dish was made, but not consumed. I had since tuned him out, preferring my mingled thoughts to his mingled story.

Walking besides us, without making a noise, was Steve Randle. He had introduced himself to us and vice versa, and then promptly shut his mouth.

If I had to guess, we had been walking for no less than a half a mile. And I was already starting to sweat. I was used to the southern heat, especially after living in Fort Worth for most of my life. But what I wasn't used to doing was walking in hot weather while wearing long sleeves, long pants, and toting a heavy bag. And listening to a fictional character give his oral autobiography didn't help either.

But I had to admit it. In spite of his incessant talking, he was beautiful. Not handsome. Not cute. Not hot (well, maybe a little). But beautiful. His hair was longish, but instead of it being filled with grease like I would expect, it hung in loose strands across his forehead, covering his eyes very slightly. Through his perfect, blond hair, his eyes peaked out, dark brown and vibrant. They said "I don't really know you yet, but we're going to be best friends!" His face in general was beautiful and sensitive, tanned from the hot sun. He stood about five feet ten inches (if I had to guess), and was slim.

Steve wasn't much of a looker with a gap in his front teeth, and his greasy, long hair. He was very tall, standing several inches above six feet. Like Soda, he was slim, but because of his height, it made him look lanky and awkward.

"--But they made him eat it anyway!" Soda continued with an exclamation. "And you know what happened?"

Soda paused expectantly, waiting for us to give in, to ask him to just tell us. But when we didn't, he got impatient.

"Do you know what happened?" Soda repeated, slightly frustrated.

"No...no, please tell us," Bobby finally answered, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"He threw up!" Soda shouted with glee as he fell into a fit of laughter. To be polite, Bobby and I started to laugh as well, though our laughs were small, born out of nervousness instead of funniness. Steve, however, kept his silence, seemingly unaffected by his best friend's weird story.

"Are we almost there?" Bobby asked once Soda calmed down.

"Yep!" Soda replied happily. "Just about a block more. My older brother got off work early today, so we're all meeting him for lunch. My younger brother will be there, too. So will our three friends."

Brothers? Friends? I guessed that meant the rest of the gang. It was kind of weird, the excitement building up in my chest. When I was eleven, reading the book for the first time, I fantasized about the book. But as I got older, my obsession with the Outsiders diminished as I took on more mature likes.

"Almost there," Steve muttered as we turned a corner, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. In the distance, about fifty yards away, a small building stood, cars surrounding it.

"That's it." Soda pointed to the building. "Best place to get a hamburger in town."

In moments, we were walking through the doors of diner, the smell of coffee and grease reaching my nostrils. After eating those sugary blueberry muffins this morning and the hamburger and french fries at lunch, my stomach was queasy. The very last thing I wanted to do was sit down and eat again. But we were here for a reason, and I had to respect that.

Bobby and I followed Soda and Steve to a table tucked in a corner of the diner. Already, there were five boys around it. As we got closer to it, I realized that it was several tables pushed together with chairs pulled rather unceremoniously around it. Immediately, Soda and Steve each took a chair, both of them sitting down with a loud "thump".

As I stood next to the table, looking at the now seven boys, I began matching faces with names. Darry was the easiest. He was the quiet one, sitting in the corner. His hair was shorter than the rest of the boys, dark brown with a cowlick. But what his hair lacked in length, he made up for in muscle. His whole body was ripped, giving you the "don't mess with me" message. I spotted Dallas next. He was the one with the bleach blond hair and vivid, cold, blue eyes. He wasn't saying very much; he was simply sitting next to a small, dark haired boy whom I immediately recognized as Johnny. The other two boys, Ponyboy and Two-Bit, were talking with each other. Well, Two-Bit was talking to Ponyboy, making sexual innuendo after sexual innuendo, causing the younger boy's ears to turn red.

"Pull up a chair," Soda called behind his back as he picked up a menu. Bobby and I just merely gave each other a shrug, found a chair, and sat down as close to the table as we could get.

"Who're your friends?" Dallas asked coolly as he lit up a cigarette.

"Bobby and Abbey," Soda replied absentmindedly. "Bobby walked up to me, said he was new in town, and wanted to know where to get a hamburger." Soda paused for a moment, making eye contact with Dallas. "Since we was headed here anyway, thought I'd be friendly and invite them along."

"Abbey...That's a real cute name," Two-Bit said (somehow, I ended up sitting next to him). "Is it short for anything?"

"Watch it, buddy," Bobby said. "She's only fourteen." This threw me back a little for it was the second time in one day that Bobby defended me. It was a little creepy.

"I didn't mean nothing," Two-Bit said defensively. "What girl don't like some flattery?"

"Thank you for the compliment," I said pleasantly, shooting daggers with my eyes towards Bobby. "Abbey is short for Abigail." I paused for a moment, letting my eyes drift from Bobby's to Two-Bit's. "In case you were wondering, Bobby is short for Robert."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then, fits of laughter burst from every mouth including Two-Bit's, whose face was turning red from laughter.

"Kid's got guts," he chuckled.

Just as our laughter was dying down, a waitress came up take our drink orders. Everyone ordered a coke, except me, who just asked for a glass of water. As the waitress walked away, Darry turned towards Bobby and me.

"So, where ya'll from?" he asked conversationally.

"Fort Worth," I replied without thinking. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I realized that I might have made a mistake. I looked towards Bobby, who was nodding his head in agreement.

"Came down here to find work," Bobby said, already picking up the dialect. "Not much going on in Texas."

"Work?" Darry asked. "You don't look more than sixteen."

"I'll be eighteen soon. Ever since our parents died, I've been working odd jobs. Now, it's time to settle somewhere."

As Bobby said the words "parents died", Ponyboy looked at us with a look of mingled sympathy and hurt. For a moment, I was confused. But then I realized that the Curtis brothers had just lost there parents. I felt a little guilty, pretending that mom and dad were dead. But what other story could we go with? What other story would rationalize our situation?

"Bobby," I hissed loud enough for everybody to hear. "I don't feel very well. I'm going to go outside to get some fresh air." I gave Bobby what I hoped was a subtle and discrete nudge in the ribs as I got up. He took the hint, getting up as well as he said, "I better go with her."

Once we were outside, I turned to him.

"We got to get our story straight right here," I said to him. "We don't want to contradict ourselves."

"I know the entire story," Bobby replied in an instance. "I was thinking about it during the car ride. Our parents died in a fire that destroyed our house. It was a farm house. We owned a small farm, but we sold it when we realized how in debt our parents were. They died three months ago, and since then we've been staying at a friend's house. We overstayed our welcome, and had to go. We decided to come to Tulsa because it was a big city, away from the country. Got it?"

I nodded. "Anything else, chief?" I asked sarcastically.

"Ha ha," Bobby said dryly. "Let's get back in. We're here for a reason. Now, let's figure it out."

We walked back into the diner just as the waitress was bringing our drinks. Everyone was animated with talk that dissipated as soon as we walked over to the table. I had a vague feeling they were talking about us.

"Feelin' better?" Two-Bit condoled.

"Much better. Thanks." I took a sip of my water as the waitress came back, asking for our orders. Bobby and and I ordered nothing. But that was all right for the boys ordered enough food to make up for what we didn't get.

Throughout the rest of the meal, the gang made conversation with one another, mostly talking about stuff we didn't know about or didn't apply to us. But occasionally, someone (usually Two-Bit or Darry) would ask us a question. There were two people who hardly made a noise, however, and I believe their names were Ponyboy and Johnny. When asked a question, they would merely shrug, or not respond at all. Johnny seemed too shy to speak up, but Ponyboy constantly had a far off expression on his face, the kind of expression that said "I might be physically here, but my mind is miles away". It was the classic daydreamer's look.

"So," Dallas said coolly as he finished up the last of his hamburger. "Who wants to catch a movie tonight."

"I'm in for it," Darry said in an instant. "No work tonight. No work in the morning. I'm going to have fun."

Soda and Steve murmured agreements, as did Ponyboy, speaking for himself as well as Johnny. Two-Bit said he couldn't go at first, but when he realized that everybody else was going, even Darry, he said he would go too.

"What 'bout you two?" Dallas asked. "Want to come?"

Bobby gave me a look that said "Why not?" before turning to Dallas, saying, "Sure, we'd love to come."

It was about five o'clock now, more diners flooding the small restaurant as the dinner hour approached.

"You guys go on with out me," Darry said as he stood up. "I'll catch up with ya'll. I just want to run home first."

"Don't tell me your bailing on us?" Soda asked with a glint in his eye. "Come on, Darry."

"I'm sorry, Little Buddy," Darry said with what sounded like genuine regret. "I just remembered something I had to do. Maybe next time?"

"All right." Soda hung his head, but he seemed all right with it.

As Darry left, the rest of us stood up, heading towards the door. Since the Nightly Double showed the first feature at 8:30, we had about three and a half hours to kill. We went outside, just walking in some (seemingly) random direction.

As we walked, the gang seemed to be weary of me, keeping their distance. They welcomed Bobby right away, seeing as he looked like their type (clad in jeans versus slacks or couduroys, although his white, bead embrodered, hippie shirt was rather unnerving). But I suppose I wasn't like them for the sole purpose that I was girl. At home, I had many friends who were male, and we got along just fine, having fun and hanging out. But I suppose it was different time. Maybe in the 1960's teenage girls weren't supposed to hang out with teenage boys.

After walking a little bit and seeing how the gang reacted to me, I decided to fall behind a little to give some distance between me and the boys. At first, no one seemed to notice. But, to my surprise, a little later, Dallas slowed his pace to be equal to mine, walking in step besides me.

"Hey," he said. His voice was different from the rest of the boy's. Everyone else had a bit of southern drawl. But Dallas had an New York accent, contrasting sharply with the native dialect. I like his voice. It was tough, blazoned with something cool, but dangerous. Perhaps it was anger? Hatred? It sounded a little like fear to me.

"Hey," I said back, looking from the ground to his face. His eyes startled me for they were aimed directly at mine. But I was unperturbed. His eyes lacked the cool danger that I sensed before. In it's place, his fears and happiness were displayed for me to see. The raw emotion emitting from his eyes was so powerful, it almost made me want to cry.

"You like Tulsa so far?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could, but I could tell there was some hidden excitement in his voice, and perhaps a little nervousness as well.

"I don't know," I replied as coolly as I could. "I've only been here for a day. The people sure are nice, though." Feeling a little bold, I gave him a small wink.

He coughed, his knees buckling slightly. And, though later I swore I imagined it, his face turned just the slightest shade of red.

"It's Dallas, right?" I asked a few moments of awkward silence later. When I saw his nod, I continued talking. "That's a nice name. Have you ever been to Dallas?"

"No," he replied. "Have you?"

"Yeah," I said. I felt as if I was lying right then. I had been to Dallas many times as it was located right next to Fort Worth, but I had never been to the 1967 version of Dallas. "It's nice there. I think you live up your name."

He looked torn right then between being flattered and being offended. I could definitely understand why: he was a tough guy, and he was being called nice by a school girl. It really didn't suit him. But I was good at giving out compliments, and Dallas was enjoying it for the most part.

We had been walking for the better part of an hour when we reached a little shopping center. It had a drugstore, a shoe store, a deli, and some sort of clothing store. Tucked away in a corner, a little library stood next to dentist's office. While it looked vintage, the scenary didn't look too different from what I might see in modern time. Besides the fact that the cars were older models and the dress was a little different, it looked pretty much the same.

Soda and Steve headed towards the drugstore, and all of us followed suit. On the inside, it didn't look very much like a drugstore, though. There was a bar where you could sit and order drinks (like milkshakes and cokes. It didn't look like alcohol was served there). You could by a magazine or newspaper as well. Soda, Steve, Ponyboy, Johnny and Two-Bit all took a seat at the bar while Bobby looked at some of the goods being sold (there was shaving cream, shampoo, and soap as well as candy bars and bubble gum). I went towards the magazine rack, curious to see copies of Newsweek and Time Magazine from 1967. To my surprise, Dallas followed me.

"You like those kinds of magazines?" Dallas asked me as I chose an edition of Newsweek with a picture of Lyndon B. Johnson on the cover.

"I find it fascinating," I replied simply as I leafed through the magazine.

"You must be pretty smart, then," he said. "I bet you get A's."

It struck me right then that Dallas was flirting with me. Or maybe he was just trying to flatter me, like I was to him. But his description in the book never said anything about giving random compliments to strange girls. But I couldn't fathom why he would have a crush on me. I hadn't bathed or brushed my teeth since yesterday morning, and I was stinking, sweaty mess from all the walking we had did in the heat. I didn't look like the other girls in Tulsa. For one, I wore pants instead of a skirt. My hair hung loosely along my back instead of pulled into a ponytail or bun, or curled up in ringlets. I also had a backpack on instead of carrying a handbag.

Dallas continued to try to talk me as I continued to read the magazine. I found article after article about things I had read in history books, or heard stories about from my grandparents. I read the whole thing cover to cover. It fascinated me. And I, apparently, fascinated Dallas. He loomed over me the whole time, asking me questions, waiting for my answer with a weird (yet sweet) anticipation.

At a quarter till eight, Steve and Soda finally announced that it was time to go to the Nightly Double. With excitement of finally being able to see this infamous drive in movie theater, I followed the gang at a fairly fast pace, not caring if it was awkward or not. Dallas walked right besides me, again making small conversation. I couldn't wait till we got the Nightly Double, to sit and watch a movie in silence.

We crawled into the drive in through a whole in the fence, more or less what was described in the book when Ponyboy went to the movies with Dallas and Johnny. As I bent down low, scurrying throught the fence, Dallas had a weird look on his face, like he didn't want me to risk getting into trouble. As I saw this reaction from Dallas, I turned to Bobby, who didn't seem to mind at all. Well, if Bobby didn't, neither did I.

The Nightly Double was crowded, many cars already parked in front of the giant screen. I realized as I looked around that this was what the kids in Tulsa did on Saturday nights: they went to the drive in just like kids in modern time went to the movies and the mall.

We walked to a row of chairs sandwiched between the parked cars and the screen. There were already a dozen or so teenagers already there. We took seats behind them. I tried to find one next to Bobby, but somehow I ended up between Dallas and Two-Bit.

For the first thirty minutes or so of the movie, everybody sat silently, watching the screen with intentsity. But then Dallas started whispering something to me. Every time he did, though, I would put my hand to my mouth, saying, "Shhhh... I'm watching the movie."

When the first movie was almost over, Dallas did one of those fake stretches, his arm finding it's way to the back of my chair. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, but I didn't say anything. The movie ended, a slight intermission before the next one.

"Do you want something?" Dallas asked shortly after the intermission started. "Some popcorn? A soda?"

"No thanks." I shook my head. "I'm fine."

To me, it seemed as if Dallas wanted something to eat or drink. But he didn't go, reluctant to leave my side. I wished he would just go, though. Bobby was still with me, two seats down, smashed between Ponyboy and Steve.

A few minutes later, the second movie started. Not long into it, a cool breeze whistled through the trees, finding me and making me shiver. All the sweat that had occumulated on body within the last day turned cold, making my teeth shatter as well. Dallas, who noticed my discomfort, removed his arm from the back of my chair and replacing it around my shoulders. His arm was warm against my cold body. It felt nice, but that didn't give him any reason to violate my personal space.

"What are you doing?" I hissed to Dallas, keeping my voice low so that he was the only one who heard it.

"You were cold," Dallas hissed back. "Just trying to warm you up."

"Well, I don't need you to warm me up," I snapped, still keeping my voice low. "I think I have jacket in my backpack anyway."

I knew I wouldn't find anything in my bag besides the garmets that I had already discovered. But it gave me something to do as I avoided Dallas's cold glare. I picked my backpack up, flung it open, and there, lying on top was an old, faded, brown jacket, a baseball hat to keep my head warm, and a rubber band for my hair. Quickly, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, tucking it under the hat as I put it on. I pulled the jacket over my arms, my shivering dissipating in seconds.

As I put my bag back under my seat, I turned to look at Bobby, to see if he had seen Dallas put his arm around me. If he had, he didn't seemed bothered by it for his gaze was intent on the screen.

For the rest of the movie, Dallas kept his hands to himself.

When both movies were over, and the many parked cars revved up their engines to go home, it was nearly midnight. I was exhausted from the impossibly long day. And it was going to get longer for although we were in the right city, we still didn't have a place to stay for the night. I was beginning to wish we had stayed in Fort Worth, at Sunshine's house.

All eight of us got up once the Nightly Double was mostly clear. With the movies over, it was safe to escape through the front entrance.

"Tell us where you guys live," Two-Bit said with a stretch as we exited the drive in. "We'll walk you to your place before heading home."

"That's all right," Bobby said hastily. "You don't have to do that. I think we've got it."

"No, man," Soda said with a small, sad shake of his head. "It's not safe for you two to walk by your lonesome."

"I think we'll be all right," Bobby said, nodding his head. "We appreciate your concern, but we can handled ourselves."

We were about three blocks from the Nightly Double now. Outside the light and bustle of the drive in, everything seemed dark, scary and a little ominous.

"Look, man," Johnny said, speaking up for the first time since I had met him. His voice was surprisingly deep for such a small boy, filled with hatred and fear.

"It's going to be all right," Bobby said as he put his hands on Johnny's shoulder, shaking them a bit. "Really. I'm pretty sure we live in the other direction anyway."

Soda gave Bobby an uneasy look. "Really, man, we don't mind a bit. It's really not safe."

"We will be fine," Bobby said forcefully. "Believe me. You guys should be getting home. It's late."

Everybody nodded, except for Dallas, who continued to stare at me, his eyes filled with an emotion I could not recognize, just shrugged in a suit-yourself kind of way.

"We'll see you around!" Two-Bit shouted over his shoulder as he walked away.

Dallas continued to stare at me for a few more moments. Then, with a shake of his head, he followed his friends into the dark night.

"Now what?" I asked after a few minutes, making sure the gang was out of earshot before speaking. "Where do we go from here?"

"I'm not sure," Bobby replied. "We need a place to spend the night." He paused to think for a moment. "I wonder if there are any motels are here."

"A bed would be nice," I agreed. "It looks we're in for more walking."

"Yeah." Bobby nodded his head. "I wonder if--." But Bobby never got a chance to tell me what he thought for just as he opened his mouth to talk, everything went silent. There were many sounds around us--the sound of distant chatter and cars, a few chirping birds, and the whistling of the wind. But all of a sudden, everything stopped, as if somebody had put the world on pause.

"What just happened?" I asked with wide eyes.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Bobby replied, surprisingly nonchalant given what just happened. But then again, so much had happened in the last two days that pretty much anything was possible.

"You know what?" I asked with a small grin on my face.

"What?" Bobby retorted.

"I think we broke it." I gave a small laugh, which made Bobby laugh as well.

"I wonder if we'll be stuck here forever," Bobby pondered out loud, a chuckle still on his lips.

In the midst of our laughter, we didn't notice the man headed towards us until he stood about five feet or so away from us. The man look completely unremarkable, except that he was clad in what looked like a spandex running suit and a pair of New Balance Cross Trainers, two items that didn't exist in 1967.

"Abigail and Robert Flynn," the man said, keeping his distance of five feet. "Welcome to the Outsiders. Congratulations on making it this far."

"Who the hell are you?" Bobby spat to the man, venom thick in his voice.

"Who I am doesn't matter," the man simply replied. "You two are the only thing that matter to me at the moment."

Talk about creepy.

"Why are we here?" Bobby yelled. "Are you the one who did this to us?"

"I saw you two arguing one your way home from school yesterday," the man sighed. "And I thought to myself 'What can I do to make these to siblings appreciate each other more'. And I thought about it for a second or two. I made my decision to transport you into this book because it is the only book both of you have read that you both greatly enjoyed. I thought it would be a bonding experience."

"A bonding experience," Bobby seethed, "is a fishing trip. An afternoon at the mall. It's not transporting us into some book we used to like a long time ago."

"As you can see," the man continued, paying no attention to Bobby's words, "I have helped you greatly all ready by giving you time period clothing and accessories to wear, more than enough money to get you started, and a guide book. You two will remain here until you can appreciate each other more." The man gave as a small smile as he turned his back on us, leaving us to each other.

"What is that supposed to mean!" Bobby shouted after the man. "Is that all you've got to say."

The man stopped, thirty feet from us, and turned around. "I would listen to your new friends' warning," the man said. Then he disappeared, vanishing into thin air.

"Weird," I muttered as the someone (probably the weird man who just paid us a visit) pressed the "play" button on the world. Everything jumped back into action and the far off noises returned. But before Bobby and I could continue our discussion, a red Corvair slowed to a stop besides us. We both curiously looked at car when the car doors popped open and six very drunk high school kids jumped out.

"Well, looks like we got ourselves to fresh greasers," the driver slurred as his cronies laughed behind him, cracking their knuckles as they advanced.

"Bobby," I whispered to my brother. "I don't like this."

"Get behind me," Bobby instructed. He didn't have to ask me twice. All of the boys in front of us looked way stronger than me.

"John and Greg, get the small one. We'll go after the big one," the driver said as he advanced on Bobby.

I tried to run, but I didn't get a chance. Two of the drunk boys, John and Greg caught up to me, one of them catching me by my arms and pinning them behind my back. The other took his hand, drew into a fist, swung it back, and began punching me in the face. The first one hurt more than anything I think I had ever experienced before. I was prepared for the second one, so it didn't hurt as much.

"Bobby!" I called out in desperation, trying to break free as the the third bunch collided with my face. Bobby didn't say anything, though, the only answer the dull thud of knuckles on face.

The fourth punch wasn't in the face; it was in the stomach, just below the rib cage. It knocked the breath out of me, everything going black for just a second. I went lip in the stronghold, the boy flinging me to the ground. A person climbed on top of me, their knees pinning my elbows down, further restricting my airways. The boy took his fist and continued socking me in the face. I lost track of how many punches he threw, all of them turning into one long string of misery.

With my eyes nearly swollen shut from the bruises, I saw the boy get ready to throw another punch. I braced myself, getting ready to feel it in the face. But, instead, he hit me in the chest. When his fist collided with my body, though, he jumped back in surprise.

"Holy shit!" the boy exclaimed. "I think he's a girl!"

If I wasn't lying on the edge of unconsciousness, I would have taken the opportunity to run. But I couldn't move, my entire body screaming out in pain.

"A girl?" another boy asked, unsure. Experimentally, he reached out with a hand, fondling my chest. I flinched at the obtrusive touch, trying my hardest to get away. I was able to wearily stand up before someone knocked me down hard on the ground. My head collided with the hard concrete with a "CRACK!". The last thing I remembered before loosing consciousness was clumsy hands fumbling at the button of my jeans.

'

When I woke up it was still dark outside. I was sore all over, and my head hurt. A painful sensation radiated from my lower stomach. With a tentative hand, I touched my stomach only to find that someone had taken my jacket it off and laid it over me. Curious, I sat up, ignoring the intense pain it brought on. I eased the jacket away to find my white blouse covered in a red substance I could only assume was blood, and the top of my pants ripped to shreds.

"They were trying to cut your pants off when I came back," a voice next to me said. It was a cool, dangerous voice with a New York accent. It was Dallas. "I heard your screams, and I came running."

I tried to sit up even more, but an intense pain came over me as dizziness washed over me.

"Don't move," Dallas instructed. "Ponyboy, Soda, Two-Bit, Steve, and Johnny went to get Darry. He should be here with his truck soon."

"Bobby," I muttered. My voice was hoarse, my throat dry. "Is he all right?"

"He's not awake yet," Dallas answered truthfully. "But he's breathing. He should come to any minute."

Ignoring the pain, I sat up with a muffled scream.

"I told you not to move," Dallas said, but he didn't sound angry. Once when I was uprighted, I saw Dallas, six feet from where I had passed out. He was leaned up against a tree, his shirt off. From where I was sitting, I could see that it was pressed against his shoulder, soaked in blood.

"You're bleeding!" I cried in alarm.

"It's nothing," he replied. "Nothing compared to what they did to you and Bobby." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Nothing compared what they were about to do to you." I could see him shiver in the chilly breeze.

In the distance, I could hear a loud vehicle approaching.

I sure hoped it was Darry.


	3. Chapter 3

**If you are reading this, then a miracle has occurred: You were able to get pass the first 10,000 words of the story. Believe me, it's not an easy feat (especially for those people with short attention spans). So, thank you if you are reading this. I hope you enjoy! **

The sound of the car grew closer and closer. And, finally, when I thought for sure that it was going to run over me, it stopped all together, a door opening and then closing.

"What happened?" a voice breathed. The voice was strong and deep. Perhaps it belonged to Darry.

"They were jumped," the voice I recognized as Dallas's said. I was struggling to stay awake, my eyes already shut from the swelling. "We offered to walk 'em home. They said they would be fine, though. We were maybe two blocks away when I heard the screams."

"I had no idea what happened," Darry replied. "Everybody runs into the house, and screams for me to come with the truck. They didn't say it was going to be this bad."

"They didn't know." Dallas's voice was barely above a whisper. "I told 'em that it was probably only two or three, and with Bobby and Abbey, we'd be able to fight 'em no problem. I told 'em to get you, that you'd would be more help than they could be."

"How many were there?" I could sense dread in Darry's voice, as if he were afraid to hear the answer.

"Six," Dallas whispered. "Two were on Abbey and four on Bobby."

"What were they thinking, attacking a little girl like that?" Darry's voice held nothing but anger and hatred.

"You don't want to know what they were thinking." Dallas's voice was dangerous, and I knew that if somebody tried attacking him at this moment, they'd probably die.

"Did they...?" Darry asked, letting his question hang.

"No. Thankfully they were so drunk, they couldn't get her pants off. They were using a blade trying to get her out of her jeans. Cut her up pretty good, though."

"What happened there?" I could just imagine Darry pointing at Dallas's shoulder.

"Went to pull a guy off Abbey. He freaked and stabbed me. I don't think it's too bad, though."

"How did you manage to scare off six boys, anyway?" Darry asked curiously.

"Just took a blade out, cut one of 'em across the face. It was enough. They all ran away pretty fast."

"Only you, Dally," Darry sighed. "Let's get these kids somewhere safe for the night. They didn't happen to tell you where they lived, did they?"

"If they just told us that information in the first place, we'd wouldn't be in this situation," Dallas replied thickly. "Can we bring 'em to your place for the night?"

"I don't see what other choice we have. We can't very well leave 'em out here. Help me get Bobby in the truck. We'll get Abbey in next."

I could hear some groaning as they picked up Bobby. I imagined them softly depositing him the cab, his head resting on the back of the seat.

"I got Abbey," I heard Dallas say as a car door closed. A few minutes later, strong arms picked me up, cradling me gently as they brought me to safety. To my surprise, Dallas continued to hold me even as he sat in the truck, gently stroking my hair.

"Boy, they really did cut her up, didn't they?" Darry asked softly as he started the truck up. I could feel Dallas shrug slightly.

It was only a few minutes back to Curtis's house, but in that time, Bobby began moaning softly, finally coming to, just as Dallas had promised.

"Come on, buddy," Darry whispered to Bobby as he killed the engine. "Time to come in." I could hear Darry helping Bobby out of the car as the two stumbled through the grass and onto the porch. Effortlessly, Dallas picked me up in one motion, making the descent to front door quick and steady.

"Did everyone go home already?" I heard Darry ask somebody in the room. Two unison "yes's" told me he was addressing Ponyboy and Sodapop.

"Golly, what happened," I heard Sodapop ask. "Dally said there were only two of 'em, three at the very most."

"I lied," Dallas replied simply. "Where do you want her?"

"Sodapop never sleeps in his bed anymore. Put her there."

I felt Dallas walk a few more feet and through a door before he gently laid me down in a blessedly soft bed. He removed my shoes and socks before covering me up with a blanket.

"Dallas?" I asked softly. "My stomach hurts."

"I know," he whispered as he took my hand. "I know."

I don't know how long he stood there, gently caressing my hand in his. For all I know, it was all night long for I fell into a dreamless, deep, sleep only minutes later.

'

When I woke the next morning, it felt as if my body had been pulled through a meat grinder. My ribs hurt, sending an intense, blinding pain every time I took a breath. My head felt as if it were going to explode, and my stomach where it was cut felt like it was on fire. My whole face was in agony, sending pain exploding throughout my body every time I did as much sneeze.

"It's not as bad it looks," I heard a voice say. "It's just all the blood."

"I know," another voice replied. "I've just never seen her this hurt before."

The first voice sounded like Dallas while the second one definitely belonged to Bobby. I was glad to see (well, hear as my eyes were still swollen shut) my brother up and well, although I didn't understand how he could be. He was out longer, so why wasn't he the one with the most injuries?

"Bobby," I called out, speaking so softly, I wasn't sure anyone could hear me. But Bobby did, and he was by my side in a second.

"Shhhhh," he consoled. "Don't talk. I'll take care of you."

"My stomach!" I cried as loudly as I could. "It burns. Please, make it stop burning."

"All right," Bobby soothed. "Let me take a look."

He pulled the blankets away from my body, lifting up my shirt to get a better look at the wounds.

"Dallas," he called softly as he looked at my belly. "This doesn't look very good, does it?"

Dallas joined Bobby by the bedside, looking at my stomach.

"I'll go get some rubbing alcohol and bandages," Dallas said as he left the room. He returned a few minutes later.

I felt gentle hands carefully washed my wounds with water and wash cloth (I knew it was water because it didn't sting yet). They used dabbing motions instead of wiping as to not further irritated the broken skin. I thought it was Bobby who the hands belonged to until Dallas's voice spoke right next to my head.

"This is going to sting a little," his voice warned.

I could hear the swishing of liquid in a bottle as another wash cloth made contact with my skin. The liquid felt cooler than the water. But it hurt and burned and it seemed weird to me that I didn't receive chemical burns.

"It hurts," I breathed, starting to pant.

"I know," Dallas replied in a sensative whisper. "But this way, it won't get infected."

The pain only intensified as time went on, each second lasting a minute. At one point, Dallas poured some alcohol over my stomach straight from the bottle. I couldn't help it. I screamed.

I could hear three footsteps running into the room. They probably belonged to the three brothers.

"What happened in here?" Darry's voice asked.

"Rubbing alcohol," Dallas replied simply.

Although their question was answered, the three brothers did not leave. I felt very uncomfortable and self conscious with five boys looking at my naked stomach, even if one was my brother. Two was really too much. Five was nearly torture.

Either Dallas sensed my discomfort, or they were annoying him for he made everybody leave except Bobby after five minutes or so. Around that time, Dallas stopped pouring rubbing alcohol over my stomach and began wrapping it with gauze and tape. With that done, he took more water and began wiping my face. I was fine with it until he touched my nose. I gave a gasp as I flinched back.

"Your nose is broke," Dallas said. "I'll have to realign the bone or else it'll grow back crooked."

Without a warning, he grasped my nose with both hands, and in one, quick motion, he snapped it back in place. As he did this, I let out another anguished scream, this one louder than the last. The ordeal left me sobbing, a few tears finding their way through my swollen eyes and down my face.

"Shhhh," Dallas whispered in my ear. "It's all over now."

With Dallas done playing nurse, I was allowed to lie there untouched. Dallas and Bobby remained in the room with me, to keep me company. Once in a while, somebody would say something either to each other or to me.

"Do you need anything?" Bobby asked me once.

"Yes," I replied. "Could you help me get my nightgown on? It's in my backpack."

At that moment, it occurred to me that Darry and Dallas maybe hadn't saved our stuff, or that the boys who attacked us might have made off with it. I started to panic for my clothes were a mess, blood and sweat soaked, and torn to tatters. I needed something else to wear.

"Of course," Bobby replied in spite of my fear. I could hear him rummaging through my bag. He walked over to me a few seconds later, pulling at the bottoms of my jeans. As they came off in his hands, he started on my shirt. With his hand on my back, he helped me into a sitting position. But as I began to sit up, I gasped in pain, trying to lie back down.

"I think she has a broken rib or two," Dallas explained to Bobby. "So be a little more careful."

"All right," Bobby replied, and began to more gently raise me up. When I was completely naked except for my underpants, Bobby very carefully pulled my nightgown over my head, pulling it down so it finally rested along my knees. With that done, he covered me up with a blanket.

"I'm going to get some ice," Dallas announced just as Bobby was finishing up. "For her face."

I could hear Dallas leave the room. He returned a few minutes later, walked up to me, and place something cold on my face. It felt nice on my sore skin.

With Dallas and Bobby taking care of me, I was able to see again by noon. As soon as I realized I could open my eyes, I looked around, drinking in my surroundings. I was in a small bedroom, the only furniture besides the bed a dresser. Besides me, Bobby and Dallas were sitting in chairs that looked like they belonged in a kitchen. Dallas didn't look any worse for wear, not being able to see his wound underneath his shirt. Bobby, though, looked as worse as I felt. His whole face was covered in bruises, his lower lip swollen. On his forehead, a large cut sat. It looked as if someone had rubbed his face on the concrete.

An hour after I opened my eyes, I was able to stand up. With wavering legs, I walked to the bathroom. My whole body was sore as I moved, but I was thankful for the independence. I used the toilet, and when I was washing my hands, I caught a look at myself in the mirror. I was surprised to see how bruised my face was, more shades of purple than flesh. There were cuts on my face as well, though I don't remembered how those got there.

On my way back from the bathroom, I heard voices from the living room. Curious, I walked that way, only to find that the whole gang was there, including Dallas who was taking a break from watching me. In the midst, I also saw Bobby. They were just finishing up lunch, and Dallas and Bobby wanted to get something to eat before it was all gone. Loud conversation was happening, but it all stopped as they all spotted me. Bobby was the first to break the silence.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

I just shook my head. But instead of going back to the bedroom, I sat on the couch. I was slightly embarrassed to be seen by so many boys in my pajamas, but I quickly shook it off. After all, they saved my life.

As the boys finished their lunch, they one by one came to join me in the living room. Soda and Pony took seats on the couch to either side of me, and Johnny sat next to Pony. Steve came up and sat on the arm of the couch next to Soda. Darry took the chair, and Two-Bit, Dallas, and Bobby sat on the floor.

Before I knew it, Bobby and I were the center of attention, everybody throwing questions at us.

"Did it hurt?" "What did they do to you?" "Did they pull a blade?" "How many were there?"

Bobby and I tried to answer as many questions as we could, but before we could, Darry said loudly, "I need to speak to Bobby and Abbey privately. Why don't ya'll go outside and play football or something?"

The boys shot looks at each other, but with a shrug, they all got up. Everyone that is except Dallas. The only thing he did was take a spot on the now nearly empty couch.

"Dally," Darry sighed. "I know you saved their lives and everything, but I have something important to discuss with them. Do you mind?"

Dallas hesitated for a second before saying, "Yeah, all right." He got up, slamming the door behind him as he joined the other boys in a game of football.

"So," Darry said, turning to face Bobby and me. "Who are you guys living with?"

"What?" Bobby asked, thrown off my such a seemingly random question.

"You're only seventeen, Bobby," Darry replied. "You can't live by yourself."

"And why not?"

"Because you can't even sign a lease for an apartment unil your eighteen," Darry explained. "So you must be living with someone: an aunt, an uncle, grandparents, cousins, an older sibling. Who?"

Bobby didn't say anything, his face pulled into a contemplative expression. He was thinking hard.

"All right," Darry said. "Answer me this: where do you two live?"

Again Bobby didn't answer.

"A street address would be nice. Maybe even some brief instructions."

We kept our silence.

"That's what I thought," Darry sighed.

"What did you think?" I asked.

"That you two don't have a place to live. Anyone sensible wouldn't have walked the streets alone in Tulsa at night." Darry was silent for a moment. "There's only one thing I can do."

Darry sounded a little sad, but not all angry. I was dreading what this 'one thing' was.

"What's that?" Bobby asked, his voice soft.

"I'm going to have to call the authorities." Darry spoke barely above a whisper, and I was straining to here him.

"The authorities?" Bobby asked. "Like the police?"

"Like social services. Believe me, I don't want to do this. But you can't stay here; there's not enough room. And I can't turn you out on the streets."

"They'll split us up!" I cried, tears spilling down my face. "You can't do that. Please, don't do that!"

"What if I pay rent?" Bobby asked in desperation. "I can sleep on the couch and Abbey can take the spare room."

"With what money?" Darrey asked as he raised his eyebrows up. "I saw how you only ordered water at the Dingo yesterday. It's because you didn't have any money, right?"

"No, that's not right!" To prove his point, Bobby pulled out his wallet, showing Darry his cash.

"All right, you have some money for now. But what are going to do when that runs out?"

"I'm gonna get a job," Bobby said. "And..." His eyes welled up with tears. "Ever since our mom and dad died, it's just been really hard. We were staying a friend's house in Fort Worth, but then he said we had to go. I had dropped out of high school to pay rent, but my paycheck wasn't enough for my friend."

"Buddy," Darry sighed, "I know exactly where you're coming from. Our parents died a couple months ago, and it's been really hard. I had to give up college to work, and I'm afraid Soda's going to drop out of high school." Darry paused for a moment to think. "I can't imagine what would have happened to us if they had died two years ago. I would have only been seventeen then, like you. All of us would probably be split up." Darry paused again. "I'm sorry, Bobby, for saying I was going to call the authorities on you. You can stay here for as long as you need. And don't worry about paying rent."

Besides being jumped, everything seemed to be playing out in our favor. Bobby's acting was good, enough for Darry to sympathize with us.

"Thank you," Bobby said, his voice filled with emotion. "I'll look for a job first thing tomorrow."

"Not with those bruises." Darry shook his head. "Everyone will think you're hoodlum. Wait a week. Let them heal."

"What about school?" I asked. I was very curious to see what public was like in the year 1967.

"You're not well enough for school yet," Bobby told me. "We'll wait a week and see how you're doing then."

I nodded my head, agreeing with him. In spit of my curiosity, I didn't feel up for school quite yet.

"Are you in eighth grade, like Ponyboy?" Darry asked me. I shook my head.

"I'm in ninth grade," I replied. "I'll be fifteen next month."

Darry nodded his head. Now that the business was out of the way, we really had nothing to talk about. Fifteen minutes or so later, the boys came back in, resuming their spots, continuing to bombard us with questions. After a little while, I began to feel tired and weak.

"I'm not feeling so good," I said in a small voice. "I think I'm going to lie down."

Nobody said anything, including Dallas, who just gave me a small nod.

I felt very frail as I walked to the bedroom, my whole body in pain, especially my stomach. I got into bed, and immediately fell asleep.

'

It was dark when I woke up. A quick look around told me I was alone in the room. Since I was thirsty, I decided to get up to get a drink of water. But when I went to sit up, I found my whole body weak, my head heavy. I felt exhausted just from thinking about moving. And I was cold, very cold. I wrapped the blankets tight around and drifted off to sleep.

'

I woke up again when I felt hand pressed against my forehead. I opened my eyes slightly to found Dallas standing over me, a look of concern on his face. It was still dark in the room, but I had feeling dawn wasn't far away.

"Drink this," Dallas whispered to me as he brought a cup he was holding with his other hand up to my lips. I drank in the cold, ice water hungrily, thanking Dallas in my mind for knowing what I wanted. My mind felt sluggish, and I was unable to form a sentence.

"Uhhhh," I groaned for the sole purpose of me wanting to say something, but not knowing what.

"Shhhhh," he whispered as he stroked my hair. I couldn't think straight at the moment, but I did know one thing: I was in love with Dallas Winston. And I think he was in love with me. I fell asleep like that, with Dallas's sweet embrace.

**All right, I'll admit it: I love reviews. If you liked this story, tell me! If you didn't, tell me what would make this story better! I want to hear from you, the reader! Thank you for taking the time to read this story, and I'm looking forward to reading your review, even if it is a flame. **


	4. Chapter 4

**In spite of my lack of reviews/hits, I have decided to continue this story for the sole fact that I love writing it so much, and it is building my writing endurance (5,000 words in one sitting? I wasn't able to do that before.) If, by the off chance you are reading this, thank you so much! I'm writing this for your enjoyment as much as mine, and it makes me happy to make others happy. I hope you like this chapter! **

I had never did drugs before, never was high or drunk or stoned. But if I had to guess what it felt like, I would have to compare it to the feeling of being delirious with fever. I passed in and out of consciousness, having fevered dreams when I was asleep and hallucinations when I was awake. I was aware sometimes, out of my mind and raving, but aware nonetheless.

Dallas was with me a lot, a kitchen chair pulled up next to my bed. He was constantly was thrusting mercury thermometers under my tongue, swearing as he saw my high temperature. To remedy the situation, he held cool clothes and ice to my forehead, bringing cups of water to my lips, making me drink.

Bobby was in and out of room a lot, but he always seemed busy. With what, I didn't know, didn't care--didn't have the energy to care. But when he was with me, he always sat with me, giving Dallas a short break from playing nurse. He would talk to me in a soft voice. Sometimes, I could make out what he was saying. Other times it was gibberish, his words sluring together, not making any sense at all.

I forgot where I was a lot, which frightened me when I was in my right mind. What if I said something that revealed that Bobby and I weren't who we said we were? I think that's what Bobby was trying to tell me when he spoke to me--to keep my mouth shut.

Sometimes, I couldn't help it--I would start crying for mom or dad. Dallas was usually with me when I said those things.

"Mommy!" I would cry. "I want my mommy!"

In return, Dallas would grasp my hand, and whisper, "It's all right. I'm here. It's all right."

Sometimes I would forget who Dallas was, asking him again and again who he was. I'm sure it frightened him. I think Bobby was sure I was brain damaged.

"She needs a doctor," I heard Dallas hiss one day, waking me from my sleep. He seemed to be right outside my bedroom door. I wasn't sure how long I had been sick--all the days ran together into one long and continuous blob of time.

"Bobby says they can't afford one," a voice that I recognized as Darry's answered, which surprised me. I thought it would be Bobby.

"But she could die," Dallas replied in a sad, desperate voice. "Doesn't he get that?"

"He just doesn't seem to understand." Darry's voice sounded tired. "When I agreed that they could stay here, I didn't anticipate Abbey getting sick. To tell you the truth, I don't think I can afford a doctor's visit either. At least not for Abbey. If it was Soda or Pony, I would manage somehow." Darry paused for a moment. "I just don't know what to do."

"I'll get the money somehow." Dallas's voice was strong and confident. "Make an appointment for tomorrow. I'll be back by then."

"Dallas, please, don't do anything illegal. It's not worth it."

"Not worth it, huh?" Dallas's voice was dangerous. "She's a human being. If you don't think her life's worth saving, then your just as bad as the socs who made her sick in the first place."

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Darry spat. "If you can't find money, we'll manage. We'll scrape something together, somehow. Bobby has a little money. Maybe if we pull it all together, we'll have enough."

"Make the appointment," Dallas said as his voice got further away. "It's been four days. I don't think we could afford to wait a fifth." Then I heard the front door open, then slam. I was left alone.

I few minutes later, I fell back into a restless sleep.

When I woke, it was Bobby by my side. He was talking again, his words soft and soothing even if I couldn't make them out.

"Bobby?" I whispered. "Can I have some water."

The words were barely out of my mouth before a cup was put to my lips. I drank until I was satisfied. Then, Bobby removed the cup, resuming his talking.

Finally, he said something I could understand.

"You're going to see the doctor tomorrow," he whispered. "He'll make you all better."

I managed to nod my head. I sure hoped he was going to make me feel better.

I fell asleep again, my hope renewed.

I was in and out of consciousness freely before the doctor arrived the next day. I couldn't remember very much--just Bobby and sometimes, Dallas. I was fully aware when the doctor, came, though.

He came to the house, which I thought was very odd. Doctors making house calls? It didn't make much sense to me. But I allowed it as he came into my room. He thrust a mercury thermometer under my tongue, taking it out after several minutes with a worried look on his face.

"You said that she's been like this for four days?" The doctor nervously Dallas, who was standing in the corner of the room, watching.

"Five, actually," was his simple reply.

"I don't know..." The doctor said slowly, letting his sentence hang. "I don't know if there's much we can do for her at this point in time. I think..." He paused again. "I think she might have brain damage. But you said there was a cut on her you thought might be making her sick?"

"Yeah... it's on her stomach." Dallas's voice seemed odd, and deep, like his was fighting off tears.

The doctor pulled up my nightgown, staring at my bandaged belly. With careful hands, he took the wrapping up, and gasped.

"This is definitely what's making her sick." He pressed down gently on the wounds with one finger, then held it up for Dallas to see. It was covered in thick, yellow pus. "She has an abscess. I'm going to give her a shot of penicillin, and then some tablets she needs to take for two weeks. All right?"

"Will she be all right then?" Dallas asked, his voice tough again.

The doctor hesitated for a moment. "Physically, I think she might recover. But..." He hesitated again. "But I'm not sure how her brain is going to fare. Just make sure she takes the tablets, and we'll see what happens from there. Okay?"

"Yeah... all right."

The doctor prepared a shot, sticking the needles directly into my wounds. It burned, and I'm pretty sure I screamed. Everything went dark for a little while, and I woke, the doctor was gone, and Dallas was sitting by my side. When he saw my eyes open, he thrust the thermometer in my mouth. After a few minutes, he took it out.

"Your temperature is down two degrees," he whispered in my ear. "It's only 103 degrees."

I just nodded, and fell back asleep.

I had a feeling it was morning when I woke again for there were birds chirping outside my window. The chair besides me was empty for the first time since I got sick. But that was all right--I felt better. My head was clear, and when I tried to sit up, I didn't get dizzy. I was able to walk to the bathroom by myself for the first time since... well, it had been a long time. In the bathroom, I was able to look in the mirror. My whole face was a yellowish color from the healing bruises, and my hair was plastered to my skin, tangled and matted with sweat. I was thin--I hadn't eaten in probably a week, and there were bags under my eyes. I looked like an alcoholic gone jaundice from liver failure.

With a shrug, I stepped out of the bathroom, hoping to find someone I could talk to. But I found no one, not even Dallas or Bobby. For a moment, I thought maybe I had died, and this was the afterlife or some weird limbo. With that in mind, I took upon myself to explore the house freely. I walked into the kitchen first, hoping to find something to eat. There wasn't much food to eat that didn't require some preparation. In fact, there wasn't much food in the house at all. There was some chicken in the refrigerator as well as some chocolate cake, eggs, milk, and some coke. In the pantry, there was a box of crackers, some cans of soup, bread... the usual stuff. In a bowl sitting on the counter, some fruits and vegetables sat. There were tomatoes, onions, and apples. I grabbed an apple and resumed my tour of the house.

I was surprised to learn as I looked around that the house was only one story. I had always imagined with two floors. But I suppose it made sense; there was no description of the house being multiple stories in the book.

Right besides the room I was staying in was another bedroom with the door closed. Curious, I peeked inside. It was a very messy room, the bed unmade and books everywhere. There was a desk pushed up against the wall, covered in papers and composition books. It held the air of having to many people and belongings in too small of a place. I recognized it as Soda and Pony's room. In the middle between my room and Soda and Pony's, the bathroom stood. It was small and had a bathtub, but no shower. A peek in the medicine cabinet showed hair grease, a comb, toothpaste, and dental floss. It was very normal stuff.

Across the living room and down a hall were two more bedrooms. I opened one at random and came face to face with a very plain looking room. There were exactly three pieces of furniture in the room: a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The bed was unmade, and on the nightstand sat an analogue alarm clock, like the kind you see in cartoons. I closed the door, and opened the door to the last bedroom. I immediately regretted it, though for it was the bedroom of the late Mr. and Mrs. Curtis. There were pictures of the walls and on top of dressers of all three boys at various stages in their lives. On the nightstand, two wedding bands sat, sitting next to each other. I felt as if I were intruding on something very personal and sacred.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked. It sounded annoyed and hurt. I couldn't quite figure out who it belonged to. Slowly, I turned around and found Ponyboy standing there with a pained look on his face.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, this time with more force.

I couldn't say anything. What could you say? Finally, I sputtered, "I thought you were at school!"

"it's Saturday," he replied simply. He walked behind me and closed the door to the room. "We don't go in there." He said, his voice soft and sad.

"You're lucky, you know?" I said, mimicking his soft, sad tone.

"Lucky?" He snorted. "Lucky for what? My parents being dead?"

"No," I replied unperturbed. "For having something to remember then by. You have all these pictures of them, and all of their clothes. My parents died in a fire that destroyed our house. All the photographs of them were destroyed as well." I looked to Ponyboy, who looked as though he might start to cry. "Sometimes, I have dreams where I forget what they look like, what they smelled like, what they sounded like. I don't want to forget." I surprised at how easily the words came out of my mouth, as if my parents really did die in a fire. I shivered at the weirdness, Pony thinking I was shivering at the memories.

"You must really miss them," Ponyboy replied. "You called for them a lot. You know, when you were sick."

"I did? That doesn't surprise me."

"Speaking of that, how do you feel?" The boy seemed to be genuinely concerned with my well being.

"I feel fine, thanks for asking."

"You do? That's good because you look terrible."

"Thanks," I said sarastically with a smile.

"We all thought you were going to die," Ponyboy said seriously with a shudder. "The doctor said that even if you live, you might not be yourself."

"Scary," I said. "Thank God Dallas was there when we were attacked. I think they would have killed us otherwise."

"Dallas?" Ponyboy asked, confused. "Darry's the one who came to your rescue. We came to get him."

"But it was Dallas besides me when woke up. He was sitting on the sidewalk with his shirt off. And besides, don't you remember him carrying me when he walked in?"

"Darry saw him on the way home. Dallas asked what was up. Darry told him. And then he asked Darry if he needed any help. That's what happened. Darry rescued you."

It struck me odd that Ponyboy would have his facts so mixed up. But after thinking about it for a minute, it made more sense that I would have my facts mixed up. After all, I had been out of my mind for nearly a week.

"What time is it anyway?" I asked after several moments of contemplative silence.

"About 9:30," Ponyboy replied. "Hey, do you want to go to the library or something?" He sounded so hopeful, his face pulled into a smile.

"I don't know," I replied. "I don't know if I'm up for it quite yet."

"Oh." Ponyboy sounded a little embarrassed and hurt.

"But I would go if I could," I replied hastily, not wanting to upset him. "Go on without me. I go with you next time."

"Naw," he replied, waving it off as if it were nothing. "I'll stay here with you. Besides, it ain't fun by your lonesome."

From outside, I could here some of boys laughing and playing football. No doubt it was the rest gang. I wondered why Ponyboy wasn't out there playing with them. It was a beautiful day, and from his description in the book, he loved the sport. He was probably just being polite, I rationalized to myself. Of course he didn't want to spend his time indoors with some weird girl who hadn't bathed or brushed her teeth in a week, and who looked like she was about to die from liver failure.

"Are you sure you want to stay indoors?" I asked a little uneasily. "It's such a nice day outside."

"You've been alone so much already. I think I should stay with you."

Yet again, Ponyboy uttered another contradiction: Dallas was with me nearly all the time. Had I been 'imagining' that as well? I let it slide, hoping I would be able to talk to Dallas later.

"If that's what you really want to do," I said with a shrug.

"It is," Ponyboy replied confidently. "Do you want to watch some TV?"

"Actually..." Now it was my turn to be uneasy. "I was wondering if I could take a bath?"

"Oh... Yeah, of course," Ponyboy said hastily. "Lemme get you a towel and a wash cloth."

I followed Ponyboy to the bathroom where he opened a linen closet, extracting the two said items.

"There's soap and shampoo over there," Ponyboy said as he handed me the towels. He then left me, closing the door behind him.

As soon as I was sure I was alone, I took all my sticking, sweaty clothes off (did they smell!), and drew some bath water. I filled the bathtub up three quarters of the way, and stepped in. The hot water felt nice on my sore skin. I took my wash cloth, lathered soap on it, and washed all over. I probably washed every inch of my body three times, my hair at least four. By the time I was done, I was squeaky clean, and feeling pretty good. I wrapped myself in a towel, and went to see if I could do anything about my bad breath. Without a toothbrush, I reached in the medicine, extracted the toothpaste, and swished it around in my mouth with a little water as if it were mouthwash. It wasn't as a good as a toothbrush, but it would have to do at the moment.

Once I was done in the bathroom, I darted into my room, hoping to avoid Ponyboy as I was naked save for the towel. Once I safely back in my room, I rummaged through my backpack, trying to find something to wear. I pulled out the pair of boot cut jeans, a blue t-shirt that I had never seen before, a bra, a pair of underwear, and, to my joy, a toothbrush and a hairbrush. I quickly got dressed, set the toothbrush aside, and began to work through the mats in my hair. It probably took me fifteen minutes to do it, but once I was done, my hair was long and silky and straight. With that done, I walked into the living room, Ponyboy sitting on the couch.

"Hey," I said as I walked over to him.

"Hey," he said back as he looked at me. I swore he gave a gasp when he saw me. "You look... nice."

"Thanks," I replied. I sat down next to him, flipping my feet up on the coffee table, mimicking him. "I hope I wasn't much of a burden when I was sick," I said, hoping to start up some conversation.

"Not at all." Ponyboy shook his head. "In fact, we hardly knew you were here."

As I sat with Ponyboy on the couch, a thought occurred to me: Where was Bobby?

"Ummmm... Ponyboy?" I asked uneasily.

"Yeah?" He looked to me.

"You wouldn't happen to know what happened to my brother, would you?"

"Yeah... he's at work." Ponyboy sounded very nonchalant about it.

"Work?" I asked. "Since when did he have a job."

"Since yesterday. He went to respond to a help wanted sign, and an hour later, he had job. Today's his first day."

"And where does he work, exactly?"

"At the grocery store. He's a bag boy."

"How long have I been asleep for?" I laughed. Ponyboy looked at me, returning my smile haphazardly.

We watched TV for about an hour before the boys came in, wanting some lunch. I noticed Dallas and Darry were missing--Darry was probably at work. God knows where Dallas was. Everybody was surprised to see me up and dressed, especially Sodapop, who thought I was a gonner.

"Well, do you want some lunch?" Ponyboy asked me as the boys crowded around the table, bringing bread from the pantry and lunch meat and chocolate cake from the refrigerator.

Ponyboy didn't have to ask me twice. I was up an instance, joining the boys in stuffing their faces. Despite my hunger, though, I was only able to eat a little bit before I felt sickly full. After lunch, I sat on the couch with Ponyboy and continued to watch TV. There weren't many choices as to what to watch--there were only two channels compared with the 250 I had at home. We watched I Love Lucy, Mickey Mouse, Tom and Jerry, the Fintstones, and the Jetsons.

"I wonder if they're going to have flying cars in the future," Ponyboy mused out loud. I couldn't help smiling when he said that.

"How far in the future?" I asked, humoring him.

"I dunno--maybe forty or fifty years?"

"I bet not," I replied, trying not to laugh. Ponyboy saw the amusement on the my face, although I knew he couldn't understand it.

For the rest of the day, we were couch potatoes, doing nothing but watching TV. At about 6:00, though, that changed when Darry, Sodapop, and Bobby came home. After lunch, Soda went to work a shift at the DX, where he worked part time. Darry worked two jobs, and he had a two hour break before he was expected at his next shift. And, apparently, Bobby worked at the grocery store as a bag boy.

"I'll get dinner started!" Ponyboy said as he jumped up, leaving me with the three older boys.

"Abbey!" Bobby called out to me as he walked through the door. He ran up to me, giving me a giant hug. "I'm so glad you're up. How do you feel?"

"Pretty good," I replied, my voice muffled as my face was pressed up against Bobby's chest. He let go of me, staring at me.

"You look so much better!" he exclaimed. "We didn't know if you were going to make it." He seemed on the verge of tears. I must have been pretty sick.

"But I'm all better now," I said as I patted his back. "And I'm fine. I'll be fine."

Darry came up next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I had a feeling this gesture was about as sentimental as Darry got.

"Glad to have you back, kid," He said kindly, heading toward the bathroom to wash up before dinner.

Turning back to Bobby, I asked, "How was your first day at work?"

"Pretty good," he replied. "It was kind of boring, but easy. It's something I can do for hours and not get tired."

"That's good," I said, nodding my head. "How much does it pay?"

"A dollar and five cents an hour," Bobby said somewhat proudly.

"Thats all?" I asked, a little skeptical.

"That's pretty good." Bobby sounded defensive. "Considering that minimum wage is a buck an hour."

"Is that all?" I gasped.

"It's all that someone needs to be paid. I can go into a store with ten bucks and come out with enough food for a family of five to eat for a month."

I nodded my head. "Sounds good then."

A half hour later, Ponyboy stuck his in the door and announced that dinner was ready. As I walked into the kitchen I saw our dinner, a bowl of spaghetti accompanied by some marinara sauce. Dinner was a silent event, all of us lost in our thoughts as we ate the food. After dinner, I volunteered to wash the dishes to a series of "No-I-don't-think-you're-strong-enough's, that's-all-right-I'll-do-it's, why-don't-you-sit-down's, and a sure (the latter was from Ponyboy, who didn't want to wash the dishes). Finally, we made a compromise: Ponyboy would wash the dishes, and I would dry them.

As we washed the dishes, I kept on expecting to continue the heart-to-heart we were having earlier, but Ponyboy kept his silence, the quiet carrying over from dinner.

After dinner was done and cleaned up from, Darry went to his next job, and Soda, Pony, Bobby and I sat in front of the TV. It was a little boring now, the novelty of 1967 television wearing off. But to be polite, I watched an hour of television before retiring to bed.

As I walked to my room, it occurred to me that I didn't have anything to sleep in. My nightgown was filthy, covered in sweat, pus, and a little blood. With no other option besides sleeping in my clothes, I decided to sleep in my underwear. As I took my clothes off, I inspected my wounds. They were still a little red, but most of the pus had dried up. Not knowing how tired a day of sitting in front of the TV could make someone, I fell into a deep sleep.

**Thank you so much for reading this story! I love to know when people are liking my story, so please, drop a review. It doesn't have to be very long! Just if you liked it, and why. And if you didn't like it, tell me! Maybe I could even improve the story! I hoped you enjoyed this. The next one is coming soon!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

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